Epilogue 1
WINTER WONDERLAND
Seraphina
I 'm walking down an aisle made of evergreen boughs and white roses, and I can't stop smiling.
The same property where Luke built his elaborate pumpkin patch has been transformed into the most magical winter wedding venue I could've imagined.
Where once there were jack-o'-lanterns casting eerie shadows in the fog, now there are towering pine trees wrapped in thousands of twinkling fairy lights that sparkle like stars against the December evening sky.
The pathways that I once ran through in terror are now lined with red rose petals and glowing lanterns that cast a warm, golden light across the snow-covered ground.
A little over a year ago, I was running through this same space in a sexy vampire costume.
Today, I'm walking through it in my wedding dress, about to marry the man of my dreams.
The transformation is breathtaking. Luke has kept the basic magic of this place—the winding pathways, the sense of entering another world, the theatrical atmosphere that makes everything feel like stepping into a fairy tale—but everything else has been reimagined for romance rather than fear.
Instead of ominous fog, delicate snow falls gently from the sky, catching in my hair and on my dress like nature's own confetti.
Instead of Halloween music, a string quartet plays softly from a gazebo draped in white silk and winter greenery.
My father squeezes my arm as we navigate around a particularly elaborate ice sculpture—a pair of intertwined hearts that sparkle in the fairy lights. "You sure about this one, kiddo? It’s never too late to back out and be my little girl forever."
I laugh, remembering how much running I did in this very spot over a year ago. "I'm done running, Dad. I found exactly what I was looking for."
The guests are seated on deep red chairs arranged throughout the winter wonderland, following the natural curves of the pathways.
Luke insisted that everyone experience the full journey through his creation, so instead of traditional rows facing an altar, our friends and family are positioned at various points along the route to the center.
Each group gets a different perspective of the ceremony, like scenes in a play unfolding as I make my way through the field.
I can see some of our friends from college near the first turn, bundled in elegant winter coats and taking pictures as I pass.
My coworkers from the accounting firm are clustered around one of the larger ice sculptures, looking stunned by the magic of it all.
Luke's business partners are positioned near what used to be the section where he first caught me, and I feel my cheeks warm as I remember what happened there…
"Nervous?" Dad asks as we approach the final turn before the clearing.
"Not even a little bit," I answer honestly.
We round the final corner, and the space opens up before us like something out of a winter fairy tale.
The same space where Luke proposed is now decorated with towering evergreen trees wrapped in fairy lights, with an arch made of intertwined pine boughs and white roses.
Battery-powered candles create pools of warm golden light throughout the gently falling snow, and overhead, more string lights stretch between the trees like stars.
It's perfect.
It's absolutely perfect.
And there he is, standing beneath the floral arch in his perfectly tailored black tuxedo, looking at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. His green eyes are bright with unshed tears, and that smile—that devastating smile—is radiant with joy.
The sight of him hits me with a wave of emotion so intense I have to pause for a moment to catch my breath. Dad steadies me with a gentle hand on my elbow.
"Second thoughts?" he whispers the joke, smiling down at me through kind eyes.
"Never," I whisper back, my voice shaking as I fight to hold back the tears. I can’t ruin my makeup. "I'm just... I'm so happy, Dad. I'm so incredibly, overwhelmingly happy."
As we near the end of the aisle, I take in all the familiar faces surrounding us. Our families, our friends, everyone we love most in the world is here to witness this moment. Despite being surrounded by nearly four hundred people, it still feels intimate and private.
Luke's best man, his brother David, grins at me from beside the arch, his breath creating small puffs of steam in the cold air. Luke's parents are seated in the front row, his mother already dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. My own mother is practically vibrating with excitement.
The secret knowledge of how this place came to be makes me feel even more connected to Luke, like we're sharing a private joke that no one else understands. Which, in a way, we are.
Dad places my hand in Luke's with the traditional words about giving me away, but I barely hear them. I'm too busy staring into Luke's green eyes.
"Hi," Luke whispers, taking both my hands in his.
"Hi," I whisper back, and suddenly it's like everyone else disappears. There's just him and me and the magical space he created for us.
The officiant—the same friend of Luke's from college who got ordained online specifically for this ceremony—begins speaking words about love and commitment and joining together. But I'm only half listening, too caught up in the surreal perfection of this moment.
"The bride and groom have chosen to write their own vows," the officiant announces, and Luke pulls out a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket.
Of course he wrote vows. He’s too organized not to. I tear up at the thought alone. He’s so fucking thoughtful.
"Seraphina," Luke begins, his voice steady despite the tears I can see gathering in his eyes. "Just over one year ago, I asked you to marry me in this very spot. But the truth is, I've been working toward asking you that question every day since the moment we met."
Oh God.
He's going to make me cry before he even gets started.
"Every surprise I've planned, every world I've built for you, every moment I've spent loving you has been my way of asking if you'll stay with me forever," he continues. "Every time I've shown you a new side of yourself, I've been asking if you'll trust me to keep exploring those depths with you."
He's right.
"You are brilliant and passionate and beautifully wild in ways that take my breath away," Luke says, his voice growing stronger even though the tears in his eyes are swelling.
"You deserve a man who will create magic for you, who will love every corner of your soul, who will spend his life making sure you never doubt how extraordinary you are. "
"I promise to keep surprising you for the rest of our lives," Luke says. "I promise to keep building you adventures, to never let our love become predictable or ordinary, to always remember that loving you means loving your wildest dreams too."
Yes. I nod at him, trying so hard to hold back my emotions.
God , yes.
The officiant turns to me expectantly, and I pull out my own folded paper, though my hands are shaking so badly I can barely unfold it.
Okay, Sera. Don't cry. Don't completely lose it in front of four hundred people.
Just tell him how you feel.
"Luke," I begin, my voice tight. "When people ask me what makes our love special, I tell them it's because you don't just listen to what I say—you pay attention to what makes my eyes light up.
You notice the little things that bring me joy, and somehow you turn those moments into the most incredible surprises," I continue, relaxing slightly.
"You have this gift for taking something I mentioned loving and creating an experience around it that's beyond anything I could have imagined. "
Like turning a conversation about a book into the most elaborate proposal in history.
"Most men would say 'I love you' with flowers or jewelry," I say, my voice growing stronger.
"But you say 'I love you' by creating entire worlds where we can make the most beautiful memories together.
You've shown me that love isn't just about finding someone who accepts you as you are—it's about finding someone who sees your dreams and makes them bigger and more beautiful than you ever thought possible. "
I pause to wipe the tears from my eyes before they have a chance to fall down my face.
"I promise to keep dreaming big with you, to never stop believing in the magic you create for us," I continue. "I promise to match your creativity with my own adventures, to surprise you as much as you surprise me."
"And I promise to love your generous, thoughtful, wonderfully romantic heart exactly as it is," I finish. "Because a man who turns ordinary moments into fairy tales is exactly the kind of man I want to spend forever with."
Forever in whatever beautiful madness we create together.
The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur of rings and kisses and "I do's" and finally, finally , the words I've been waiting to hear:
"You may kiss your bride."
Luke's kiss is soft and sweet and full of promise, nothing like the desperate, claiming kisses from our night in the pumpkin patch. This is different—this is the kiss of a man who knows he has forever to love me, who doesn't need to rush because I'm never going anywhere.
When we finally break apart, the winter wonderland erupts in cheers and applause. Snow continues to fall from overhead and the fairy lights twinkle around us like something magical and ethereal.
We did it.
We're married.
As we make our way back through the winter field—this time as husband and wife—I can't help but marvel at how perfect everything turned out.
The same pathways that once filled me with terror are now filled with the laughter and congratulations of everyone we love.
The same clearing where I once surrendered to a masked man is now the site of the most important moment of my life.